Blown Away! Page 9

  “I don’t think so, Jake. Like I said, I have a bad feeling about this storm.”

  18

  TRAPPED!

  Dad and I took turns staying with Sharkey for the next two days, but it was impossible to keep him off his feet for any length of time. No matter what he asked me to do to get his property ready for the storm, he’d interfere. Then he’d get up with his crutches and come over to inspect my work.

  “I’ll do it, Sharkey. That’s why I’m here!” I’d yell.

  “Then do it right!” he’d yell back.

  Eventually, once we had everything secured outside, I attached Sharkey’s motorboat to his old boat trailer, and then I hooked Jewel up to the front of the trailer. After a few prompts Jewel pulled the boat out of the water and onto the shore. Of course, Rudy sat in the trailer as if cheering Jewel on.

  “Now you know why its good to own a mule!” Sharkey said. “Especially with a hurricane coming.”

  “Do you really think we’ll get the storm?”

  “Of course I do. Didn’t you hear me say I have a bad feeling about this hurricane? We’ve got to be prepared. You ought to know that, Jake.”

  Once we hung up all the tools in the shed and got them out of the way, I was able to push the trailer inside. “We’ll keep the wagon out for now, in case we need it,” Sharkey ordered. So I got Jewel to pull the wagon near the entrance to his house.

  “What about Jewel and Rudy? How are you going to keep them contained?” I asked.

  “Haven’t you noticed they’ve been staying home lately? I have a chain with a lock that I put on the corral when I want to keep Jewel in one place. Unless Jewel has become a locksmith recently, I don’t think she can open the gate anymore.”

  On Sunday of the Labor Day holiday weekend, I hitched Jewel up to the wagon to bring Sharkey over to our house for breakfast.

  “I didn’t hear the church bells this morning,” Sharkey said as we rattled along the dirt road.

  “Folks won’t be going to services today,” I said, “not when a big storm is brewing.”

  “God helps him who helps himself,” Sharkey muttered, looking out at the bay. “No sense sitting around waiting for a miracle. Not when those clouds are whisking up from the south and the sea has that dark, threatening look.”

  “The vets who come to our store say the storm isn’t coming,” I told Sharkey. “If it were, the government would send a train to get them out.”

  Sharkey shook his head. “One would hope so, but I don’t believe anything until I see it. Back in 1906, when I was a young buck working on the overseas railroad, a group of our construction workers were out on Long Key when a storm was brewing. Supervisors paid no attention and refused evacuation. The hurricane came, and the men on Long Key were killed.”

  “Lucky you weren’t with them.”

  “Lucky indeed,” Sharkey said.

  When we arrived at the store, Dad had his sleeves rolled up and was checking the engine in the truck. “I’ve tried everything to get this engine going. It goes for a while, but then it dies.”

  “You can only nurse it along for so long, Doug,” Sharkey said. “It’s been on its last legs for months now.”

  “If I could get it going, we could take Star to a hospital.” Dad slammed the hood down. “We’ve got to get help for her.”

  “Is there anyone else who could take her?”

  “Most everyone with a car or truck has gone,” Dad said.

  “Even if you got the truck going, with this engine you might get stuck in the middle of nowhere,” Sharkey warned. “And the storm surge on this flat land could come right up and over the Keys. You could be swept away.”

  “Maybe we could get a ferry down to Key West,” I suggested.

  “The ferry isn’t running,” Dad said. “The seas are too rough.”

  Dad and I helped Sharkey out of the wagon, then tied Jewel to the old gumbo-limbo tree. Rudy sat on the porch.

  “Mom’s busy upstairs. Star is still feverish, and your mother is constantly cooling her down, giving her water to drink—and doing a lot of praying,” Dad went on. “Mara’s here to give Mom a hand.”

  “What about Miss Edith?” I asked. “We should check out her house too.”

  “Billy and Roy went with their dad to close up the shutters. That house should be okay. It’s been through dozens of storms,” Dad said.

  In the downstairs kitchen Mara had cooked bacon and eggs at the lunch counter. “It’s hard to believe all this talk about a storm coming,” she said. “There’s hardly a breeze.”

  “The calm before the storm,” Sharkey said.

  We sat at a table and Mara served breakfast.

  “Star just fell asleep again,” Mom said as she came down the stairs and sank into a chair. She looked exhausted and worried, and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles. “Did you get the truck running?” she asked Dad.

  “It starts up, then stops,” Dad answered.

  “Doug, the veterans have a clinic up near Snake Creek. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” Mom said. “If you can get the truck working, we could take Star up there to a doctor.”

  “It’s only for the veterans,” Dad told her. “One of the fishermen became ill and went to that place, and they wouldn’t touch him. Something about government policy and insurance. I doubt if they’d take care of Star.”

  “But this is an emergency!” Mom insisted. “It’s going on four days now that she’s been running this fever. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

  “I don’t dare take the chance of getting stuck in the storm,” Dad said.

  Mara passed Mom a plate with a muffin and guava jelly, then poured her a cup of coffee. “Thank you, dear. You’re becoming another daughter to me.” Mom smiled weakly at Mara but pushed the food away. “I wish I could reach Dr. Whiteside. Star complains of a bad headache, and her fever goes so high.”

  “He’s probably gone to the mainland,” Sharkey said. “Just about everyone else has left—either because they had plans for the holiday or now because of the hurricane.”

  “Let’s check the forecast.” Dad turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial.

  “The warm waters off the Florida peninsula are strengthening the storm, which is now a full-fledged hurricane. The direction is westward at about eight miles per hour. The hurricane is expected to move across the Straits of Florida and into the Gulf of Mexico late tonight or early Monday. Hurricane pennants are now displayed from Fort Pierce to Fort Myers on the west coast. Look for gales and high tides on the Florida Keys.”

  “It doesn’t sound as if it’s coming here,” Mom said hopefully.

  Dad shook his head. “Lou, fishermen who’ve been out at sea and have made it back are telling about big swells blowing in from the southeast. If the waves keep coming from that direction, I’m afraid we’ll get the storm.”

  “I took a walk to the beach this morning,” Mara said. “I didn’t see any breakers, but a lot of seaweed had drifted onto the beach.”

  “We don’t usually see breakers. The coral reefs break up the waves before they come into shore,” Dad explained.

  “There was a nice sunset last night over at Sharkey’s,” I said, trying to be optimistic. “You know what they say: ‘Red sky at night, sailors delight.’”

  “Cirrus clouds make colorful sunsets,” Sharkey said, “but they’re still signs of an approaching storm.”

  “I’m more inclined to believe the scientists at the weather bureau than to listen to those silly old superstitions,” Mom sniffed.

  “Lou, honey,” Dad said, “you don’t want to believe the hurricane is coming here, and neither do I. But the fact is that despite what the weather bureau is saying, we know from the signs that it will strike very close to Islamorada, and we have to be prepared.”

  “I know,” Mom said, her eyes filling with tears. “My hope is that the forecasters are right. I just can’t face a hurricane—not with Star so ill.” She started up the stairs, the
n paused. “Keep trying to get the truck working, Doug. Maybe we can get to the clinic at Snake Creek in the morning.” She turned to me. “And Jake, please stay with us tonight. I’m sure Sharkey will understand that I want our family to be together right now.”

  “Yes, he should be here with you,” Sharkey agreed. “Things will work out for all of us, Lou.”

  “Thank you, Sharkey, “Mom said. “I hope so.”

  Later in the afternoon Sharkey was ready to go home, so I helped him into the wagon. “Where’s Rudy?” he asked. “Well, let’s go without him,” Sharkey said. “Can’t wait around all day.”

  Jewel looked anxiously toward the path that led to the shore. It was windy, and her black mane blew in the gusts. She snorted and did her whinny-bray. “She’s looking for Rudy. Why don’t we ride down and find him,” I suggested. “Jewel behaves better when Rudy’s around.”

  I didn’t have to lead Jewel. She knew where to find Rudy and took us down the path that led to the church, and along the shore to the Ashburns’ place. Sure enough, Rudy was sitting by the closed door, waiting patiently to see Ginger.

  “Come on, boy,” Sharkey yelled. “This is no time to be visiting your girlfriend.”

  Billy and Roy came out from around the side of the house. They were wearing carpenter aprons, and Roy had a hammer in his hand. “Hi, Jake! Do you need any help battening down?” he called.

  “We’re all set, thanks,” I answered. “Is Miss Edith’s place secure?”

  “We put up her shutters,” Billy answered. “She and Mara are all set.”

  Mr. Ashburn stuck his head out the door. “I’ve heard the storm’s slowed down—another sign it will turn north,” he called out to us. “Better take cover soon.”

  “Thanks. We’re on our way,” Sharkey answered.

  “We’re too close to the ocean here. If it gets real bad, I’m taking my family up to the packinghouse on the railroad bed,” Mr. Ashburn yelled from the porch. “It’s higher ground there.”

  “Good idea. A storm surge shouldn’t come up that far.” Sharkey looked out at the ocean. “The waves are breaking close to shore now, and they’re from the south. Come on, Rudy. Get on board.”

  This time Rudy bounded down the stairs at Sharkey’s command, and he leaped into the wagon, plopping down next to Sharkey. “Giddap, Jewel,” I said. The mule shook her mane and plodded up the path.

  When we got back to Sharkey’s I asked, “Where should we put Jewel?”

  “Over in that lean-to shed,” he answered. “That should hold her for now. Rudy can come into the house with me.”

  “Then I’d better tie Jewel up. You shouldn’t come out in the storm, Sharkey. No matter what. Not with your bad leg.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Sharkey said. “We’re on the leeward side, and the wind won’t be so bad over here.”

  After I left Sharkey, I went home. Star was crying with her headache. Mom gave her some kind of herbal medicine she had on hand, and she fell back to sleep again. “She’s burning up,” Mom said, removing Star’s sweaty pajamas and putting on another pair. “Poor baby.” She kissed Star’s hot tummy while Mara looked on anxiously.

  It was muggy and hot upstairs in the house, so Dad opened one window shutter, and we sat in the living room with the radio on low.

  “Want to play rummy?” I asked. “It’ll pass the time.”

  Mom poured limeade and we played, but it wasn’t much fun. We were too worried about Star and the storm.

  Suddenly we looked up in surprise. Star had come out from her room and was walking toward us. Mom got up and went to her. “Star, where are you going?”

  “To the baby turtles,” Star answered.

  “Baby turtles?” Mara said. “Where?”

  “I want to see the baby turtles.”

  “Not now, honey,” Mom said. But Star kept walking toward the stairs that led down to the store. “Careful, Star,” Mom said, grabbing her hand. “You’re too sick to go downstairs.”

  Star stood near the stairway in a daze. Her face was flushed with fever, and her hair clung around her face in sweaty curls.

  Mara gasped. “She’s walking in her sleep.”

  “She’s delirious,” Mom whispered. “Oh, why didn’t we take her away from here yesterday? We’ve got to get her to a doctor.” She led Star back to her room. Star stared straight ahead, not seeing anything. She walked with little steps and would have wandered off in other directions had not Mom held her hand firmly. Mom’s face was pale, and I’d never seen her so frightened. Dad followed her to Star’s room, and I could hear them talking quietly.

  “Star is so sick, she doesn’t know where she is or what she’s doing,” Mara said softly. “I wish I could do something for her.”

  Mom reappeared with tears trickling down her cheeks. “You can do something, Mara. She loves you, and you’re so good with her. Perhaps you can talk to her, or tell her a story—anything to keep her content. I’m so afraid that she …” Mom covered her face with her hands and turned away.

  Mara went with Mom to Star’s room, while Dad came and sat with me at the table.

  “Mom doesn’t want you to worry, but she’s afraid that Star might have sleeping sickness,” Dad said, and his voice broke. “She has all the symptoms—high fever, delirium, headache.”

  “No, not Star!” I cried out. Everyone had heard of the sleeping sickness. One of my classmates had had it the year before and was taken to the mainland. I never heard what happened to her.

  “Mom is going to keep her cool all night and give her sweet catnip tea and feverfew for her headache. It’s only herbal treatment, but it’s about all we can do for now.” Dad patted my shoulder. “With a hurricane on the way, the regular train service will stop. However there may be a train for the veterans tomorrow, and if so, perhaps we can get Mom and Star on board.”

  “But, Dad,” I protested, “you heard Milt and Harry say the government hadn’t sent any orders to get them off the Keys!”

  “Maybe help will come tomorrow.”

  I circled my arms on the table and buried my face in them. Please help us, God, I prayed silently. Save my little sister. I felt a tight knot in my gut. Please save Star.

  The wind was rising outside, and above the sounds I could hear Mara singing.

  Sweet little sleepyhead, close your eyes

  And hear the soft wind blowing.

  While way up in the starry skies

  A summer moon is glowing.

  Sweet little sleepyhead, close your eyes

  To dream of a bright tomorrow,

  With blue balloons and merry tunes

  And never a tear or sorrow.

  A gust of wind rattled through the window that Dad had left open. He got up and closed it, then looked at the barometer on the wall. “Its dropping,” he whispered to me. “That storm is heading for us. If the veterans’ train doesn’t come tomorrow, we’d better face the fact that we’ll be trapped right here in Islamorada.”

  19

  “STAY SAFE”

  Later, in the early evening, Mom took a nap while Star slept. Mara and I sat together in Star’s room to keep an eye on her. Mara kept patting Star down with wet cloths. Whenever Star roused, Mara got her to sip a little watered-down tea.

  “Good girl,” Mara whispered, and kissed Star’s head. “You’ll get better soon, sweetie.”

  “Mara, maybe you should stay here with us during the storm.”

  “No, I need to be with Aunt Edith. I’m sure we’ll be fine. She told me she’s gone through some powerful storms before. The house is anchored to the ground, and the Ashburns helped put up the hurricane shutters. It’s gloomy inside, but other than that we should be safe.”

  Dad came to Star’s door overhearing our conversation. “It’s not just the winds,” he said. “There could be a storm surge and that means flooding. So be aware of the rising water, Mara.”

  “What should we do if the water rises?” Mara asked.

  “Get to high ground as soon as
you see it’s getting higher,” Dad told her. “I’m sure Miss Edith knows the dangers.”

  It was getting dark when Mom woke up. “Thank you, Mara dear,” she said. “I feel better having taken a nap. You’ve been a tremendous help.” She turned to me. “Walk Mara home, Jake. She shouldn’t go back alone.”

  Mara hugged my mother and father. “My prayers are with Star—and with all of you.”

  “Stay safe, Mara,” Mom and Dad said together.

  I took a flashlight and was glad I did, because the sky was black and without a star. As we walked along the railroad bed toward Miss Edith’s house, not a light could be seen through the trees, since most everyone’s windows were shuttered tight. Occasionally a gust of wind rattled the palms, but other than that there was an eerie stillness that permeated our little town.

  Mara reached out and took my hand. “Jake, I’m scared.”

  I squeezed her hand hard. “It will be over in no time. The storm comes, and then it’s gone, just like any other storm. Things will go back to normal. You’ll see.”

  “You know, Jake, I love it here in the Keys. I feel as though I belong here now.” She laughed. “I wish I could stay here forever.”

  “Why can’t you stay here forever? You’re a real conch now. And a fisherman, too.”

  “That one lesson doesn’t make me a fisherman!” Mara said.

  “Well, you may need another lesson,” I agreed. “Conchs are great fishermen.”

  We both laughed. Mara slapped at a mosquito. “This is the first time since Daddy died that I’ve felt part of a family—even though it’s your family.”

  “We all think of you as one of us,” I told her.

  “I’m glad you do. Back where I lived, most coal miners have large families—especially Polish families like ours. Some have nine or ten children. But my family was just Daddy and me. After Daddy’s accident I wondered if I’d ever belong anywhere or be happy again.”